10. Warren
CHAPTER TEN
WARREN
A fter fueling up and a relaxing lunch at the duck pond, we’re back on the road, headed to this cool place called Ames that I found while reading a Utah Ghost Towns post on one of the blogs I follow.
I can’t wait to see the look on Kyle’s face when he first lays eyes on it.
Coasting along the dusty old highway with nothing but red rock for miles, I hum along to the Spotify playlist I have on repeat, chewing on some beef jerky.
“Make sure you limit yourself after what happened two summers ago,” Kyle warns.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off, taking a big gulp of water.
“I mean it, Ren. Or did you forget?”
He’s referring to the time that I ate a whole bag of jerky and two Slim Jims in one sitting and became ridiculously thirsty. Like scary thirsty.
I couldn’t stop chugging glasses of water and was about to drive myself to the hospital until I Googled it. Basically, I consumed way too much sodium and dehydrated myself.
“I didn’t forget,” I grumble, shoving the bag at him roughly. “ Here. It’s all yours. Enjoy. ”
Kyle chuckles, munching on a few pieces before shoving the rest of the bag in the glove compartment.
With just under an hour to go, a clunking noise starts to rattle as the engine sputters out.
No. No. No.
“ Fuck! Carmen, don’t do this to me,” I beg, hitting my palm against the steering wheel multiple times.
I pull the RV off the road and onto the shoulder, putting the hazard lights on.
I’m going to have to pop the hood and take a look. Hopefully it’s something simple that I can fix right now, or we’re fucked, and this trip is over.
“Kyle, scoot over here and pull this lever when I tell you, okay? It’s the hood release.”
He nods, and I hop out to lift the front of the RV in order to give me access to the engine. But as soon as I touch the hood, I realize it’s too fucking hot. “Ahh! Sonofabitch , motherfucker!”
I’m too goddamn impatient.
I shake my hand and walk away from Carmen before I do something I’ll regret, like kicking her and ending up with a hurt foot, too.
Kyle hops out and runs over to me, worry shining in his bright blue eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m just a dumbass.” I whip my white tank top off, ready to sacrifice it for the greater good. I use it to wrap my hand before I ask Kyle to get back in and try again. “ Pull it! ” I shout, lifting the hood at the same time.
It works and I prop it open, starting checks on all the connections.
Kyle hops out, standing on the side of the road with me and peering over my shoulder. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Don’t know yet, bro. Give me a minute.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kyle wandering around in the desert, kicking at small rocks. There’s nothing but orange dirt, red rock, and dying shrubs out here. I wouldn’t be surprised if I see an honest-to-God tumbleweed roll by. But it’s rattlesnake country, too, and we can’t afford for Kyle to get bitten when we don’t even have a working vehicle.
“Yo, Ky! Get back over here, dude!” I shout at him, and his blond head whips my way, brows creasing in confusion. I cup my hands around my mouth, yelling even louder, “ Snakes! ”
Kyle’s eyes bulge, and I swear he jumps a foot in the air before running back over as fast as he can. “ Shit. I thought I saw something move out there,” he pants.
I chuckle, concentrating on the engine once again.
Kyle stands next to me, his thick arms folded across his chest as his eyes scan the desert next to us, as if daring any of the snakes to try and sneak up on me.
The sun beats down on my bare back as I continue to work through all the parts one by one, trying not to freak out about what’s wrong with Carmen.
I take a deep breath, attempting to settle the anxiousness bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. If I have to call Pops and ask him to drive the tow truck all the way out to Utah, he’ll never trust me with anything ever again.
When I get to the battery, I realize the positive connection isn’t clipped tightly anymore and has nearly come free.
Of course!
Should’ve checked it first.
I must have bumped it while I was wiping it down, and the vibrations from the engine eventually knocked it loose.
Luckily, the battery looks okay otherwise. I debated replacing it, but ultimately decided not to so I could save the shop some money.
I reclip the positive side and make sure the connection is secure, then slam the hood shut.
“Done?” Kyle asks hopefully.
“Yup. The battery connection came loose. It’s the best we could have hoped for,” I explain. “She should start just fine now.”
“Hell yeah,” he says with a grin.
We climb back in and I turn the engine over, holding my breath and crossing my fingers.
Carmen purrs to life effortlessly, and I can’t help but pump my fist into the air. “ Fuckin’ yes! ”
When I glance over, Kyle’s staring at me with a warm look. “You did it, Ren.” He holds a palm up, offering me a high five, and there’s no way I’m turning that down.
We make contact with a loud slap, but neither of us lets go, weaving our fingers together instead.
“Let’s go explore,” I whisper, earning myself a big smile.
It was a long road to get here, but we made it.
Ames, Utah.
The now-abandoned railway station was once thriving in the early nineteen hundreds. There was a popular saloon here, and trains would stop so that people could wet their whistles. But after the interstates came through, Ames became deserted.
“ Whoa, ” Kyle says in awe, looking around with his jaw slightly dropped. “What is this place?”
“ A ghost town, ” I whisper in an eerie voice. A slow smile curls my lips as I peer at him out of the corner of my eye, watching his reaction.
“ No way. This is sick. So no one lives here?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, even though I’m not completely sure. The blog didn’t know either, stating that there’s known to be drifters and artists who pass through.
We drive through the creepy town full of no trespassing signs, haunted-looking wooden structures near collapse, and not a single human in sight. Green mountains loom in the distance, but other than that, the grass is dead, and the only vegetation around is low shrubbery.
It’s truly abandoned.
But there’s also this folksy sort of self-expression everywhere, with weird art installations, spray painted school buses, and abstract murals.
“Let’s go,” I say, feeling antsy in my seat as I park the RV in front of the tiny, vacant post office.
We hop out, making sure to lock our doors first, you can never be too careful out here in the middle of nowhere.
I get my camera out and snap a few photos, excited to see how retro the ghost town looks in a Polaroid. I tuck the little squares into my pocket to develop out of the sun.
“Look! Beer for Sale. ” I point to the hand-written sign on a piece of poster board that’s nailed to a wooden post. There’s a giant red arrow on it, pointing to a dilapidated old structure.
“ No. Absolutely not, ” Kyle says adamantly.
“Come onnn . . .” I whine. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat. We’re only here once. Let’s just check it out real quick.”
“If we get murdered out here, I will never fucking forgive you, Warren,” Kyle deadpans, walking next to me as we follow the arrow.
“No one’s getting murdered. Chill the fuck out, Kyle,” I chuckle.
He needs to relax sometimes and stop worrying so much.
This trip is good for him.
I stare up at the crooked sign that’s holding on by a single nail in the left corner.
Saloon.
“We really shouldn’t go in there. It could collapse,” Kyle whispers with worry, grabbing onto my elbow to halt me.
“It’s fine,” I insist, secretly hoping I’m right and this isn’t the end because we get crushed or murdered.
I push through the double swinging doors, and sure enough, behind the bar is a person with a bleach-blonde shaved head, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. They’re wearing a loose, sweat-stained tank top, very obviously no bra, and khaki cargo pants.
Maybe Kyle was right, and we shouldn’t have come in here.
“Hey. Um, beer for sale?” I ask, because all my brain can do right now in this intimidating person’s presence is repeat the sign back to them.
A crooked grin curls their lips, and they place two cans of beer I’ve never heard of in front of us. “Fifty bucks.”
“ Say what? ” I rear my head back in complete shock. “Hell nah, bruh.”
“ Ren, ” Kyle warns, placing a calming hand on my forearm as the bartender calmly adjusts the gun tucked into the back of their cargo pants.
I take a deep breath and with a very tight mouth, I slap fifty dollars on the wooden bartop. No tip, because, fuck them.
Kyle and I pick up our beers, popping the tab and taking a skeptical sip.
Yeah. Not good.
I attempt to start an awkward conversation with this person, starting with introductions. “Well, I’m Ren, and this is Ky. What’s your name?”
“Sam.”
“So, what else is there to do around here, Sam?” As far as I know, there’s not much from here until Moab.
“As of right now? Nothing but get drunk and fix up these old-ass buildings before they collapse.”
I hum my acknowledgement because what the fuck else am I supposed to say to something like that. Sounds fun? Yeah, no.
“Know of any good campsites around Moab? We’re on an RV trip,” I tell Sam, attempting more small talk until we can finish these shitty warm beers. I saw a silver Airstream out back, and I’m assuming that’s where they live.
Kyle kicks my shin under the bartop, bulging his eyes at me.
“You’re welcome to stay here, but it’ll cost ya. I’m sort of the unofficial caretaker of Ames,” Sam says with half a grin.
“We’re just passing through, but thanks for the offer,” I say quickly, guzzling the rest of the disgusting beer while Kyle does the same. I set it on the counter and stand up. “Well, Sam. Thanks for the beer and the visit, but I think we’re going to explore a little more if that’s alright with you? Then we’ll be on our way.”
Sam nods, and we hurry from the saloon, ready to put that bizarre experience behind us.
We continue walking along the dusty dirt roads, taking in the strange sculptures dotting the desert, including a giant snake weaving through a bus.
“This place is pretty cool,” I say in awe, snapping a Polaroid of it, then pulling out my phone to get some digital shots and videos as well.
I’m not watching where I’m going, looking at my screen instead as I walk between the deserted buildings, getting excellent footage of the desolation.
I step on some wooden slats on the ground and they give way. My foot starts to fall into the hole, taking my body with it.
“ Ren! ” Kyle suddenly shouts, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around me before I fall into the abyss. He pulls us both back and falls to his ass in the dirt. I land on top of him, both of us panting heavily.
I’m lucky he was right behind me and his reflexes are so quick. “ Thank you, ” I gasp, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder while I catch my breath.
My heart is beating a million miles a minute.
“ Fuck, Ren. You scared the shit out of me,” he whispers into my ear.
His words sink in as we continue to sit in the dirt with my back to his front and his arms wrapped around me.
After what feels like forever, I finally climb off, offering him a hand. Kyle takes it, and I pull him to his feet. “Let’s get the fuck outta here,” I insist. “This place is creepy and dangerous.”
“I agree,” Kyle says, dusting his ass off.
We hurry back to our ride, avoiding walking directly in front of the saloon and possibly being spotted by Sam.
The RV is really starting to feel like our cozy little home on wheels. Especially when I add the creepy ghost town photos and our timeline grows.
“We should see if we can camp somewhere around here.” I pull out my phone, opening the app that finds nearby campsites using your location. “I hope something pops?—”
“Again with trying to get us murdered!” Kyle shouts, throwing his hands up in exasperation before snatching my phone out of my hands. “I’m going to have to veto that plan, sorry. Let’s get on the road to Moab and find a campsite there. I’m not staying here or anywhere remotely close to here. No fucking way.”
I chuckle at his clear dislike for the ghost town.
“No worries, Ky.” I reverse the RV and get back on the road.
We’ll drive straight there, use the app to choose a campsite, and then maybe we can go out.
“Hey, wanna find a real bar and get fucked up tonight?” I ask once we’re settled on the highway. “I need a do-over after that nasty-ass beer.”
“Sounds good to me,” Kyle says, leaning his seat back and folding his arms across his chest. “Wake me when we’re almost there.” He closes his eyes, trusting me to get us there safely.
I smile to myself, cruising down the dusty old highway to some of my favorite songs while my best friend sleeps in the passenger seat.
Life is good.